Dr. Leafhead: Story of a Mad Scientist (Part One)

by Zack Mitchell

don't really think he had to leave on business...  it was probably a test to see if I could survive the house.  Tomorrow I hope to learn more about the Universe-Interpreter, a fascinating telescope-like device located in the front yard.  Leafhead says that if ---

  I was suddenly so overwhelmed with tiredness (having eaten as much turkey, duck and chicken as I did) that I nodded off before realizing I hadn't reset the fertilizer switch while on Mars.

  One painfully craned neck later I was still slumped over the dining table, my open journal nearby.  Leafhead woke me up by loudly playing a triangle.  I noticed he was clutching the menu from Obscurity Sandwich.

  "Did you order that from Obscurity Sandwich?" he asked with urgency, throwing the triangle to the ground and pointing at the turducken remains.

  "Yeah," I said groggily.  "I charged it to your account.  I hope that's ok.  It was a bit more expensive than I thought it would be.  Maybe you should sit down while I tell you about it.  There was this hot chocolate, you see--"

  "Never mind that now.  How long ago did you eat that turducken?"

  "I don't know, an hour or so before I passed out last night."

  "Hmm," said Leafhead.  "Hmm."

  I recall feeling as if something smashed me on the back of the head.  Then there was an incredible coldness.  I woke up an undetermined amount of time later. 

  "Sorry about that," said Leafhead.  "You've been out for another 17 hours.  I had to put you through the De-Toxifier again."

  "What for?"

  "That turducken was laced with microscopic robots.  They are capable of exerting a number of evil effects on the body.  Among their talents are acting as a tracking device, expelling fatal poison into the bloodstream and sometimes controlling one's movements in a comical puppet-like manner. Everyone at Obscurity Sandwich is part of the vast conspiracy to seize my house and steal my inventions and revelations.  I should have warned you earlier.  Sometimes fake take-out menus find their way into the house.  I'm not sure how, but I suspect hamsters or other tiny animals are trained to bring them in through some sort of unseen tunneling system."

  "But I ran the turducken through the Ingredient-Analyzer," I argued.  "The results said nothing was out of the ordinary."

  "Yes," said Leafhead.  "Unfortunately Obscurity Sandwich has been learning to evade even some of my best defense-machines.  Concerning the electrified perimeter fence, thankfully, they have proved themselves completely ineffectual time and time again." 

  "Couldn't they just land a few helicopters on the front lawn?" I asked,

  "No," replied Leafhead simply.

  "Why not?"

  "There's invisible mines hovering above the house, yard and fence.  Any air-traffic over Chateau Leafhead will not end well for those in the sky."

  "Oh."

  "You might notice the pile of wreckage gathered near the pond.  Keeping them away from the house is as imperative as resetting the fertilizer switch for the Mars Gardens," stated Leafhead.

  "Oh," I said again.  "About that.  I think I might have forgotten to reset the switch."

  Leafhead said nothing.  He immediately fled the room.  Three musty bat-filled attics later he was on Mars.  Some of the plants had already begun to be devoured by Martian microbes at that point.  That was the main function of the "fertilizer," to repel alien bugs.  A time-lapse shot of the gardens without the repellent would have showed the plants quickly withering.  Eventually they would be completely enveloped by a slug-like slime.  But it was not too late.  Leafhead hit the switch.

  "Is this yours as well?" asked Leafhead upon returning, holding out the pamphlet for Red Cape Man.  He said nothing about Mars.

  "Yeah, it came with the food.  The guy said it was a new movie funded by Obscurity Sandwich."

  "Who was the delivery-person?  The man with the scarred face?"

  "That's right."

  "I knew it."

  "Who is it?"

  "Only my arch nemesis, that's who."

  "The movie looks ridiculous, doesn't it?" I asked, changing gears.

  "It's scandalous propaganda is what it is!" blurted Leafhead suddenly.  

  "What are you talking about?"

  "These Intel Agents have stolen my likeness and character and placed it in the context of this superhero movie. It's happened many times before in many different mediums...animated shorts, radio serials, comics, novelizations...but never on the scale of a live-action feature film. In order to vilify me to the public, I am always portrayed as the archetype-baddy who cruelly thwarts the hero.  My stories are actually very well-known in popular-culture.  You've never heard of Dr. Greenskull or Red Cape Man?"

  "I don't think so, but I'm definitely curious to see this movie," I said.  "You know that screening is tonight, right?"

  "Yes, I am also curious," agreed Leafhead.  "However I don't plan on wandering into their trap.  Nothing could get me past their scanners and sensors.  You, on the other hand... you're new.  They don't know you very well.  Your DNA is assuredly not yet on file with the enemy, considering the turducken was their first attempt to harvest a sample."  

  "What's your plan?" I asked.

  "I have methods of disguising you," said Leafhead.  "Did you ever see Mission: Impossible?"

  "The show or the movie?"

  "Doesn't matter.  What does matter is that my disguises are so realistic they make one of their masks look like a plastic Halloween costume made for financially disinclined children from the 1930s. To the Incognito Room!"

  The Incognito Room quickly became one of my favorite places in the house.  The greatest costume department in Hollywood would have been jealous with rage had they seen the skills at Leafhead's disposal.  Anyone could be transformed into anything within a matter of minutes.  Actors who had been spending 8 hours a day in a chair having prosthetics painstakingly attached to their faces had simply been wasting massive portions of their life. 

  "This is the Face-Replicator," said Leafhead.  "Get in."

  "It looks like an ordinary photo-booth," I said.

  "That's what it was when I stole it from Coney Island fourteen years ago.  Now it's a Face-Replicator.  Get in."

  I got in.  Some sort of noxious gas suddenly filled the booth.  Just as I was about to express annoyance about how many times Leafhead has thus far caused me to pass out, I passed out.  I awakened as a completely different person. 

  "Check it out," said Leafhead, holding up a mirror to my face.

  I looked at least 80 years old.  

  "You'll have to act your age if we're to fool them," said Leafhead.  "Hunch your back and try this cane."

  He handed me a bamboo walking stick from out of a well-stocked prop cabinet.  I immediately toppled to the ground once I tried to put pressure down on the cane.

  "Whoops, that was my comedic Chaplin-esque bendy-cane," said Leafhead.  "Sorry about that."

  "That's okay," I croaked, picking myself up and rubbing the soon-to-be epic bruise on my lower back.  "I'm starting to learn that physical abuse is just a necessary part of living in this house."

  "Indeed it is.  Let's try another one," he said, handing me a white marble cane.  "This one will make you look like a rich mobster not to be messed with.  It's also one of those sword-canes."

  "Why would I need a sword-cane?"

  "In case you get into a brawl, of course.  Why else would you need a sword-cane?  Hunting for game?  Slicing grapefruits on the go?"

  I limped around the room for a minute.

  "Very good," said Leafhead.  "You're a passable actor.  Now practice your old-voice."

  "How does this sound?" I asked.

  "Not bad, but try a little less Burns and a little more Matthau."

  "Like this?"

  "Perfect."

  We left the Incognito Room and made our way to the library.  Sitting down at the round table, I produced my tape-recorder.

  "On a side note," I began, "I've been hoping I could
use my tape-recorder to capture an official Q & A interview.  I'm thinking about writing a book about my time here.  If you're ok with that, of course."

  "By book you mean a document that reveals all the knowledge of my inventions that I have fought for years to keep from getting into the wrong hands?"

  "Yeah.  But when you put it like that--"

  "Actually, I think it's a great idea," Leafhead surprisingly exclaimed.  "But you have to make one deal: You won't show the book to anyone until I say so.  Even if such a time doesn't come for years after the book is completed.  This includes sending a copy to even the most trustworthy of mothers and/or grandmothers."

  "I can agree to that," I said as I began setting up the tape-recorder.

  "Oh... not right now," said Leafhead.  "Plenty of time for a Q & A later.  You've only got an hour before you gotta leave.  Stay in here and keep practicing your old-voice and hunched walking.  I'll be on Mars if there's trouble."

  I put away the tape-recorder for now.  I perused through the thousands of books, covering just about every topic on Earth.  After nearly an hour Leafhead returned.

  "Alright," he said, checking his watch.  "It's time."

  "It's playing at The Palace downtown," I said.  "How am I going to get there?  Drive my truck?"

  "No," replied Leafhead.  "They'll recognize your truck.  Besides, a truck is an extraordinary waste of time and money when you're in the company of someone with the technological know-how of crafting teleportals to any location on Earth."

  "You can teleport anywhere?" I asked incredulously.

  "Well... nearly anywhere.  Baffin Island is a little tricky.  Also the specific type of heat associated with the